


A Christmas Miracle

by DC_Fitzpatrick



Series: A Christmas Miracle [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, Drama, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Lost Love, Oral Sex, Romance, Ron Weasley Bashing, Sex, Slow Burn, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, in that order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-20
Updated: 2019-12-27
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:49:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DC_Fitzpatrick/pseuds/DC_Fitzpatrick
Summary: The holiday season brings angst and reminiscing, thoughts of what was and what could have been, and what will be, to everyone. It couldn't be different for Hermione.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Series: A Christmas Miracle [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1592254
Comments: 117
Kudos: 467





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be a Christmas one-shot. It obviously got away from me. It could easily turn into a long fic, as you might notice in the first chapter, but I did not want to prolong the angst, do that to you guys or to myself. The idea is to have all of it posted within the week.
> 
> As usual, whatever you recognize is not mine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is angsty (at least for me) and a bit of a set up. But it gets better.

It was mid-December. A thin layer of snow covered the streets of New York City as Hermione Granger walked down 5th Avenue, admiring the bright lights and exuberant window displays, all decorated in the holiday spirit. Her coat was wrapped tightly around her, just the last of the layers she wore – along with a warming charm – as was her scarf, tightly wound around her neck. Her gloved hands were stuffed in her pockets, and a woolen cap completed her look and warming needs.

It had been an almost lifelong dream to come to New York. That she had managed to do it in the Holiday Season was certainly an added bonus. If she had one complaint, it would be that she was alone.

Life right after the war had gone just as she had imagined and planned. The world was safe at last, she had gotten a nice desk job at the Ministry, and finally, _finally_ , Ronald Weasley had seen her as more than the swotty, annoying know-it-all that insistently hung around him and his best mate, the golden boy. They were dating. Life was good.

The dating had gone on for years. Enough years that it should turn into an engagement, and finally a marriage, as everyone was pressuring them to. Of course Hermione was not one to do anything because she was pressured to. She was happy to marry Ron. But she would soon wonder if he had been happy to do it as well.

It hadn’t been long after the wedding until the constant bickering had begun. It wasn’t all roses while they dated, but after marriage, it seemed that every little thing she said only served to irritate him, that any conversation turned into a fight because he misunderstood what she meant, or interpreted a tone she had never meant to convey. Perhaps what they needed was time, time to get used to living together, in such close quarters, and in such close bonds as those of marriage.

On one of the good, peaceful days, they had decided to start trying to conceive. That seemed to put a wide smile on Ron’s face, and his mood was wonderful and constant for the weeks to come. It was the Ron Hermione had always wanted. She was completely happy and fulfilled for the first time in their one year of marriage.

So she happily cut back on work, taking up only part time duties, preparing herself for motherhood, to be there for her children, be as present of a mother as she could. It was also what Ron wanted. In fact, if he had had it his way, she would have quit work altogether. But she couldn’t do that. He seemed content with what he could get, and supported her decision to work part time.

Weeks turned into a couple of months, and the frustration of not getting pregnant started to weight on the couple. Ron’s moods returned, and Hermione felt empty, in need of something to fill her time and the void of failure. Failure to get pregnant, and failure to keep her husband happy, her marriage happy. But it would pass, as it had before. Once they were parents, Ron would absolutely go back to his normal self, like he was when they started dating; loving and nurturing.

To fill her days and distract her mind, Hermione looked for an extracurricular activity of sorts. And there was nothing better and more stimulating than learning.

She had always had interest and curiosity in potions, perhaps stemming from her interest in chemistry in the muggle world. But potions were somehow even more fascinating. How an array of ingredients, magical or non-magical, each with their own properties and uses on their own, could be combined in various ways, creating from the simplest compounds like a headache potion, to complex potions that could heal severe sickness, create the illusion of love, or poisons that could kill. In addition to that fascination, there was the feeling that potions had been the only subject she hadn’t gotten the most out of in school. Professor Snape was brilliant, and hardly ever followed textbooks, his spiky handwriting always on the board with his own set of instructions. But following the textbook was all she knew. It was what she could read beforehand, to be prepared. She found difficulty in thinking outside the box, in fitting what Professor Snape taught into what she read in the books. That much was obvious from the notes he left on her essays, and the grades he handed her. Of course his… unorthodox, rigid ways were somewhat hindering as well.

And then, on her sixth year – what turned out to be her final year in Hogwarts – there was Horace Slughorn. He wasn’t a very good teacher, always more interested in what he could get from the students in the future. He was the opposite of Professor Snape. Too plain and predictable, teaching the bare minimum, not stimulating enough. And she never got to take the NEWT level classes, and learn the really interesting bits.

So she decided to invest in that. Potions tutoring. At least at first. When she felt she knew enough of that, she could move on to something else, if the free time was still there. She worked in the mornings only, and would have a couple of hours in the afternoon to learn, distract her mind, and be home in time to put dinner on the table for Ron. She only needed to find someone willing to help her.

She went into the Potions Department one afternoon, hoping to find Frederick Bagman. He was a Hufflepuff, contemporary to her at Hogwarts. She had absolutely no memory of him, but was hoping that her somewhat celebrity status would get her somewhere. If he was not available to help her, he could at least indicate someone who could.

However, she did not find Frederick there. He was out for the day. Apparently there had been a very serious spill, and the labs needed to be closed for the day. The only soul that could be found there was the Head of the Department, no other than Severus Snape himself. He was still very intimidating, even though she hadn’t seen him since the war and wasn’t the teenage girl he could bully anymore. She knew she wouldn’t get anywhere with him, but she was there, and it would be rude to just not talk to him. She did want to make this arrangement work sooner rather than later. She really needed to fill her mind and her time. Plus, she didn’t want to have made the trip all the way down to the labs in vain. It couldn’t hurt to try.

“Mrs. Weasley… How may I help you?” He had uttered in that indifferent and slightly annoyed tone of his. At least he hadn’t been outright rude.

She exposed her needs and wishes, never daring to insinuate he take the time to teach her when she wasn’t even serious about pursuing it as a career, and wasn’t asking for a proper apprenticeship. It would be a waste of his time. But she wouldn’t mind being taught by him. He _was_ brilliant, she couldn’t deny it. That was why he was head of the department. And she could certainly handle him better now. Still, she just asked he point her to someone who could aid her. She would, of course, pay them for their time.

To her surprise, after analyzing her with his piercing gaze for what seemed like endless minutes, he proposed something that could benefit both. He was in need of an intern of sorts, to help him with a project. He could not use the people he already had working under him in the labs, for they each had their own projects and their plates full. He didn’t want to be arsed into choosing from the idiots that came from Hogwarts these days. Leave that to the others. She was intelligent enough that she would not be in his way, he knew – she was a bit taken aback by his acknowledgement of her smarts – and in return, he could teach her. He would need to brew endless potions for his project anyway. It could be an exchange of favors of sorts, and it could last for as long as she saw fit. She, of course, accepted it.

And so they started. She would work in the mornings and go down to the labs in the afternoons, after she had had her lunch. She would help with it all, happy to have something to do and be recognized for it, from scrubbing cauldrons and chopping ingredients, to actually brewing potions on her own. He would teach her new things, perfect her techniques, and give her an article or two to read, so they could discuss it the following day. Ronald knew nothing of this. He hated Snape with a passion, still, even with all they had learned after Voldemort’s demise. He knew she had taken up a hobby, to distract her mind, but didn’t really care what it was. He never seemed too intent on talking to her about her interests anyway.

It was all business between Snape and her. At first. He wasn’t as stiff and rude, and didn’t scowl as much as in Hogwarts. Perhaps the freedom of not being at war and in danger soothed him a bit. Still, he wasn’t the friendliest or most open of men, and just gave her instructions she followed. That is, until he _had_ to open up.

Hermione was curious, always. She had held it back in front of him as much as she could, as to not irk him, but one day, when he talked about the properties of an ingredient she had never even heard of, she just had to ask. “How do you _know_ all this? How did you stumble upon it?”

There were things he learned while brewing and creating unspeakable things for the Dark Lord. In order to instruct her and quench her annoying and persistent curiosity, he told her about his experiences in the lab under those circumstances matter-of-factly, to explain his findings. She would just get more curious and interested, and ask more questions.

He had been alone for long. Surrounded by people, but alone. Few people he did consider as… not so much friends as close acquaintances, such as Minerva, just assumed he wouldn’t want to talk about those things, so they never asked. The rest didn’t care. He himself thought he would prefer to leave it buried deep inside. But the few things he was forced to share with her made him… breathe easier, it seemed. To take that off his chest, and not have her judge him for what he did and just listen. And the fact she was interested in more seemed to get to him. So he slowly did open up more of it, deeper and more personal things, sometimes not related to brewing at all. And since Hermione was quite the curious type, she kept asking, fascinated by his past, by what he went through, sorry that he had to do it all alone. She went through much less, and had Harry and Ron, at least, and it still bothered her and gave her nightmares sometimes. She could only imagine how he felt.

Being alone and keeping everything bottled up had taken its toll. So the more she asked, the more he shared, little by little, surprised she even cared to ask. She started sharing her experiences as well, though they seemed rather foolish compared to his. And a fragile friendship bloomed.

She began to have lunch with him. She learned he preferred to stay in the lab, and eat alone rather than go out to the cafeteria, or, if he had more time to spare, he would go out into the muggle world, and eat alone nonetheless. So she would bring her lunch and have it with him in the lab, so he wouldn’t eat alone. Whenever she was in the cafeteria, she would eat alone anyway, as Ron never seemed to be around for lunch.

They were on a first name basis in no time, and sharing more than just war experiences as well. What they did after work, common interests, books they were reading, favorite movies and songs, hopes and dreams. And when Ron was particularly moody and rude, she took comfort in Severus and their talks, sometimes even sharing with him what happened. She couldn’t exactly share with Harry or Ginny. They tried to be neutral, but seemed incredibly understanding of Ron’s side every time. Severus would try to comfort her, but keeping his distance, not getting too involved with it.

She one day, while brewing, called him over to clear some doubts she had about the process. But her eagerness to learn had made her cut his name short, as she analyzed her potion distractedly, thinking on her question. So she called him “Sev.” He raised an eyebrow at her, then narrowed his eyes, pursing his lips, reminding her very much of being at the dungeon in Hogwarts, and before she could apologize or correct herself, he said “what is it… Herms?” Sardonically, as he of course would. She sniggered and quite liked it, to be honest. Her friends, her husband, everyone called her Mione. Herms was nice. Different. It warmed her heart. He was the only one to call her that. It became a running gag between them, until it was just how they naturally called each other.

His project came to an end. He published his article, made his discovery. Still, he did not turn her away from his lab when she showed up every day, and she kept showing up every day. Hermione began to question her feelings, her life, her marriage. How could she be happier, smile and laugh more in the few hours a day she spent with Severus Snape, the sullen bat from the dungeons, than with her own husband? Why did Severus Snape show more interest in what she had to say than her husband ever did? Why was he sweeter, more attentive to her needs, to her voice and opinions than Ron? Was this right? And all this just after a few months of working with him.

There was a particular day when she came in really distracted. She had had a big fight with Ron. The words he said… had filled her with sorrow. She didn’t understand why this happened, why sometimes he would just… demean her like that. She didn’t want to talk about it, but Severus nudged it out of her. He couldn’t have her handling potions distracted as such. He sat her down in a corner – it was a good thing he was head of the department and he had a private lab – and made her talk. It didn’t even take much probing, really.

At the end of her tear-filled rant, he just stared at her, breathing heavily. Rage in his eyes. She thought she had perhaps overstepped, opened up too much to him, until he opened his mouth.

“That blithering idiot!” He was fuming. “I wish I could hex him into fucking next year.” It was like Ron had personally assaulted him, the way he was enraged. “You should not give his words one ounce of thought. Nothing… _nothing_ he says about you is true, or has any worth.”

“I know… he’s just… angry.”

“That is absolutely no excuse to be an arse to the woman who loves him, who… does everything for him. Who fucking saved his life during the war. He should be forever thankful that a dimwit like him should be so lucky to have that. He should lay his life down at your feet, consider every word you say as the heaven sent truth. It’s funny how those who don’t value things are always the one who have it all.” After fuming a bit more, he realized what he had said. “He maybe… doesn’t deserve you.” He said a bit under his breath.

Hermione looked at him with still tear-stained eyes, thinking that she bloody well wanted a man who felt that strongly about her. Severus stared back into her whiskey eyes, flecked with gold… lovingly? She wouldn’t know, she hadn’t ever really seen a gaze like that in anyone. But he was still angered at what he had heard. They perhaps had a moment there, but before it could go further, he stood abruptly and got to work. Harshly, angrily, setting things down at the work bench with a thud, and barely looking or speaking to her for the rest of the day, but answering when she spoke, in a neutral tone, like he was trying to hide something.

Hermione realized, even if subconsciously, that she had developed feelings stronger than friendship for him. But she denied them with all her might. It was Ron she loved. She was just projecting that onto the nearest man she had constant contact with because things were hard at home. But marriage was hard. They were under a lot of stress, because they were having trouble conceiving. She couldn’t just give up on her marriage. Especially for someone she wasn’t quite sure how she felt about, and who most likely didn’t feel the same for her. Or did he?

She focused on bringing some spark back into her relationship, as to not make any stupid decisions in the heat of the moment. So she cooked for Ron, all his favorite meals, but they were often deemed bad, and he wouldn’t eat them sometimes, preferring to go out and eat by himself. She was tender and loving, and took deep breaths when he lashed out at her, trying not to cause a fight. She pampered him in every way she could think of. And she even tried to be inventive in the bedroom, to spice things up.

It didn’t work as much as she would have liked, but things were better. Feebly stitched together. She saw it as progress. She was not one to simply give up. And then, it finally happened. She got pregnant. And Ron was once again the happy, caring boy – albeit a bit clueless at times – she once knew, just like she knew he would become. But that period was short-lived.

As she got bigger and her hormones were all over the place, the unhappy, snarky Ron returned. And once again her solace lay in her friendship with Severus, that remained there, and strong. And while Ron commented on how big she was getting, and that perhaps she should cut down on the eating, Severus complimented her at every turn, saying how beautiful she was, and how she was glowing. While Ron had no patience with her mood swings and would leave her to cry and talk by herself, Severus listened, Severus comforted. While Ron did not care to run out in the middle of the night and tend to her cravings, saying it was rubbish and she would get even fatter, Severus would find her whatever she mentioned she wanted to eat, be it going out at the moment she mentioned it to fetch it for her, be it bringing it in the next day, often cooked by him. While Ron complained she wasn’t getting anything done in the house and was getting lazy, Severus insisted she rest, demanding less and less of her in the lab, even giving her foot rubs at times, until finally she just showed up to sit with him and discuss the articles he appointed for her reading pleasure. All because he couldn’t forgo at least seeing her.

When the baby came, Rose was her name, Hermione had to stay at home for a month. The longest month of her life. She was still on maternity leave, wasn’t even going to work, but she made her way to the Ministry, little Rose in her baby carrier, just so she could visit Severus. The man was delighted by her visit, his eyes shining upon seeing her, unlike she had ever seen directed at her. Except for maybe… from that same man, countless times before. He was also delighted to meet baby Rose, and when she wrapped her tiny fingers around his larger one as he caressed her tiny hands, he smiled, also unlike she had ever seen before.

Soon, she was back to his lab. Sooner than she actually returned to work. Every day, helping him. Baby Rose would sit in his office, away from harm, and Hermione would go check on her as much as needed, to breast feed her, soothe her, put her to sleep. Severus walked in on her breast feeding once, and never had she seen him more embarrassed. What she didn’t know was that in addition to his embarrassment, he fought the arousal that crept up on him for having seen her smooth, porcelain skin, having seen so much of it, having seen her breast. He longed to see more of her, all of her.

Severus would also hold and coddle Rose, play with her, and sing her to sleep. He had a good singing voice, as well as his spoken one. Baby Rose liked him, and even laughed with him. And Hermione’s heart swelled and got all warm and fuzzy in seeing Severus with her baby, so good, so gentle. If one judged him only by what he was like while teaching at Hogwarts, they would never believe it. But Hermione had so much more to judge him by now. Baby Rose was more soothed by him than by her father, who, in the end, had not much patience with her either. He never even changed one single diaper. As baby Rose grew and started taking her first steps, Severus was right there to hold her hand and guide her as Hermione brewed. She could swear she never had seen him so joyous. It made her happy as well.

Hermione continued to vent about some things with Severus, and he was, as always, supportive. It was nice to have someone on her side. Everyone else she had in her life knew Ron, and was somehow closer to him than to her. They would never see her side of things. It was at times like these that not having parents anymore became especially painful.

It became clearer to her that there was indeed something there, in the air in the lab, between her and Severus, and it wasn’t just potion fumes. But she couldn’t leave her husband now. They had a baby. A family. They had to make it work. She became really torn. Maybe if she had left him before, she would be better off. She shouldn’t have stayed for fear of Severus not wanting her. Perhaps if she had someone else to turn to, a home to go back to… She should have left for herself. But if she did, she wouldn’t have Rose.

And now, she lacked even more courage to do it. They had a daughter. A child needs her father. How she felt about this maybe stemmed from the fact she had lost her parents in the war like that, and she was already a young adult. Imagine how it would feel for a child. And Ron… he worked in the Auror department. He was well connected. And she had learned, through the threats he spewed during their arguments, and unfortunately too late, that he was spiteful. She was scared she would lose her baby girl to him if they were to divorce. He could very well lie and cheat, and use his leverage for that just because she dared leave him. That was the true Ron.

And then there came a time when he was to be transferred to some little town in the south of France for a year. He needed to go with his family, present a united front, otherwise he wouldn’t get to go, nor would he get the promotion that followed. He accepted it without discussing any of it with Hermione. Of course there was a huge fight once he simply informed her they were moving. He didn’t consider her job, her friends, her feelings. She did not want to go. Mostly though, she didn’t want to be away from Severus, even if France was just a train ride or a portkey away.

Things moved really fast. She wasn’t in any shape to be seen in public, and Ron had already informed her boss she would be going, again without her knowledge or consent, so she was on unpaid leave. So she didn’t show up at the labs. She didn’t know what to do with her life. And when Severus called her mobile – for safety reasons of not having to face Weasley should he be home when he flooed – he learned the news of her possibly moving, and some of what Ron had said and done. So he stated very seriously on the phone that they needed to talk, face to face. She was sure, deep in her soul, that he would ask her to stay, to be with him. And if he did, she would. To hell with it all. He was a powerful wizard, well connected as well, he could help her against anything Ron might try.

But it turned out that meeting never happened. She did not know it, but Severus lost his nerve. Though she complained about her husband, that did not mean she wished to leave him. Much less did it mean that she would want to be with _him_ , that she felt anything more than friendship towards him. Perhaps the few signs he thought he saw were misinterpreted. Wishful thinking. He could not dare insinuate she break up a family solely on that. But he should simply tell her how he felt anyway, let her decide. Or was that too presumptuous of him just the same? Before both knew it, time had moved things along fast, and she had moved with her husband and daughter, and they never managed to arrange to meet in the couple of weeks in which it had all transpired.

But Severus, being the good spy that he was, got a hold of her mobile number – which had changed – and called her up in France after a while, after he thought things had perhaps settled down. They talked, once a week. He, having been around that country a few times, suggested what she might do or go see, since she was at home and not working. What she wanted to do was to go to London and see him. But there was no plausible excuse for that, none to give to Ron. It wasn’t like she had parents to visit. She, in turn, reported to him on what she had done and seen. But it became harder to talk. They missed each other too much, unbeknownst to one another, and it hurt them to think the other’s life was getting on fine without them. Besides, Ron had become insanely jealous and controlling, and didn’t even understand why she needed that muggle contraption anyway. So she had to take these calls without him knowing. She would pretend it was the wrong number when she couldn’t talk, and Severus would know she couldn’t, or didn’t want to talk.

And so the phone calls died down.

Hermione, lonely in a foreign country, decided that what made her most happy right then was being a mother. She was good at it. And the urge to have another child grew in her.

She got pregnant without consulting Ron about it. She thought it would take long to happen, as it had before, and since now their sex life wasn’t all that active, but surprisingly, it happened fast. Once he learned, he was furious, which was odd, because he had told her once he wanted a big family, like his. Hermione was the one that had said she would be happy with one child. And even though he hated anything muggle, he went and got a vasectomy. He just told her once he arrived home from the surgery, saying he took precaution because she was a bad mother. Plus, now, if she cheated on him, he would know, he said.

Hermione returned to the UK with a second child, Hugo, having missed Severus the whole time, his tenderness and attentiveness towards her when she had been pregnant with Rose. She knew the words to endless love songs she had heard on a loop thinking of him, endless songs she knew for a fact he liked. But she returned to find out Severus no longer worked at the Ministry. She had no trace of him, nowhere to find him. He had moved because he could no longer bear to see her with the dimwitted redhead who didn’t deserve her one bit, and not have her to himself. And he didn’t want to be in the way, thinking maybe things had gotten better while they were away, maybe it wasn’t all that bad in the first place and he only heard the few worse bits, and maybe his presence hindered their progress somehow. His doting of her. Their friendship. He thought about showing up, going back, countless times. And he did. But he didn’t find her in London. Weasley had been transferred two more times, and she had followed him on those. It was precisely on those times Severus went back, got out from his countryside hideout or his endless strings of travels. Fate did not want them to meet. And the fact she was still with him, traveling everywhere, only proved to him she was now happy.

She really wasn’t though. She made it work, for the kids’ sake, and it was tolerable for most of the time. But that is all it was. And then, when both kids were in Hogwarts and it was just them alone again, it wasn’t even that.

So she made the decision of divorcing him. She wanted peace. She wanted to be happy, or however happy she could, anyway, and that wasn’t going to be achieved by his side, it was painfully evident now. The kids were older, and could understand things a little bit better, and could speak for themselves in court, say they wanted to see their mummy. And she was sure they would, because Ron still wasn’t the nicest father, and they weren’t too crazy about him. Respected him, or more feared him, but they were mostly attached to her. They would be away for most of the year in Hogwarts anyway. So she couldn’t force herself to bear Ron for three quarters of the year just to spend one quarter with her kids. And Minerva was her friend, still, not poisoned by Molly’s bullshit. She would definitely let her into Hogwarts every once in a while to see Rose and Hugo.

In addition to all of that, she had found out that from very early on in their marriage, Ronald had cheated on her with an endless string of hussies and social climbing bimbos. For the last 10 years, since they had gotten back from France, he had kept a constant mistress, and he thought he was in love, telling her he would only see the kids through Hogwarts and then would dump Hermione to be with her. That would explain why he had stopped sleeping in their bed, sleeping with her, and only talked to her when extremely necessary for the last decade. But the bimbo broke it off with him, and now he wanted Hermione to stay. Fat chance.

It had also come to her attention that the true reason he had had the vasectomy was because he had gotten some French whore pregnant. Not wishing to be on the cover of every newspaper, he had taken her to some sketchy country where they wouldn’t be found out to get an abortion. It had almost killed her, and so he got a vasectomy to avoid future problems. And had said those horrible words to her just because.

It was just all a slap on the face, really. To think that, despite her feelings, her deep, strong feelings for Severus, she had tried to respect him and their marriage, make it work, while he truly never gave a fuck. She should have just shagged Severus senseless on every flat surface, every day in his lab, and not have given a fuck either. Now the opportunity was lost, perhaps forever. She hadn’t had the heart to look for him. What if he was now married, and happy, with kids? It had been a decade. A lot happens in a decade. And though Ronald had tried to keep the divorce quiet, to not taint his reputation, there were small notes in every newspaper. Severus surely had seen them, and if he wanted, he would have found her.

So now she walked the streets of New York City. She had sat her kids down and had a long talk with them. They didn’t blame her. They saw it how it was, and that it didn’t feel right, their parents together. So smart they were. They had voiced their wish to stay with their mother when at home for the summer, but alternate weekends and holidays would go to Ron. She could live with that.

And it turned out that Christmas 2019, her first and third years, brave little Gryffindors, would be at Molly’s. She breathed relieved, because even though Molly was not on her side, she was a good caregiver, and would take care of her grandchildren. Ron was trying to persuade Hermione to go too, trying to win her back. So she decided to spend the week or so she had off in New York, to make her point clearly.

She had also decided to spend it in New York City because she remembered one time, when she came into the lab tired and in a bad mood, claiming jokingly that she needed the day off, Severus had offered to take her to New York the next day. He knew someone in the portkey department. She would skip work, as would he, and they would come, spend the day, shop, see the sights, no one would be the wiser. She would be home for dinner.

The blind Gryffindor, stripped of her courage, could not do it. She had refused. She regretted it very much. And she had wanted to see New York ever since. But what she really wanted was to be there with him. Tobe anywhere with him.

She stopped to see the light show on Saks, which she stood in front of. It was really beautiful. She stood there, mesmerized, and sad as she looked around and saw people in couples, holding hands, men keeping their ladies warm by putting a hand around their shoulders, hugging them. She never had that.

It started snowing softly again as she started to walk once more. It was her first evening there, and she wanted to see the decorations, and perhaps already buy Rose and Hugo a Christmas gift, something New Yorkish, so that on the following days she could see other sights, and just rest, recollect her thoughts. It had been a tough year. A tough decade, really.

Just when she started to think that perhaps her hotel room, a hot shower, and a hot beverage were in order, she saw a window that caught her eye. A family, sat in a luxuriously decorated living room, kids under the tree, opening their presents, parents on the sofa, cuddled together. She felt sorry for herself once again, that it had never been the case for her. That it probably never would be. Before she began to weep copiously in public and the Americans started to look at her as the deranged Brit, she started to walk again, and abruptly ran into a tall figure.

“Sorry,” she was quick to say, regaining her balance. “I’m usually not this clumsy,” she continued, more to herself as she checked her purse was still on her and straightened out her clothes, fully expecting to be talking to herself by now, since New Yorkers always seemed to be in such a rush. But as she composed herself, she saw that the man still stood there. Not only that, he held her arm, helping her regain her balance. She looked up at him, to thank him, and saw a familiar face, albeit slightly changed by the years.

“Sev…!” She called breathlessly, jaw dropped. She intended on saying his full name. She did not know if he would still give her the liberty to call him as such. But her breath failed her.

He looked very charming. Much like her, he was fully clothed and buttoned up, scarf tight around his neck, hand that did not help her stuffed in his coat pocket. But his hair now was gray as his scarf, and short. Very different from the jet black long locks, tied back at the nape of his neck he sported when she last saw him. The stern lines on his face were the same, though, much like they did before, they softened upon seeing her.

He leaned down and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, squeezing and pulling her up against him for a moment. “Herms,” he said in her ear softly, and let her go, smiling now.

To hear him call her that once again brought tears to her eyes. His low, silky voice in her ear brought a shiver to her spine. And he smelled great, as usual. Peppery and herbal at the same time. His smell tightened her core as well. They stood there, looking at each other, the snow and the cold not bothering them in the slightest. It was evident the spark was still there.

Severus finally managed to tear his eyes from her, and looked around, expecting to see a husband and kids catching up to her. None did, though. He became cautiously curious. But not hopeful. Never hopeful.

“May I… buy you a hot beverage of some kind?” He finally offered.

“Hot cocoa, please,” she said, smiling and nodding.

“Hot cocoa it is, then,” he smiled, placing himself beside her, to walk next to her and lead her somewhere. “I know just the place.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this wasn't up sooner. But once you see how long it is and consider that I write it by hand first and then type it, I think you'll forgive me.
> 
> Merry Christmas!

He led her around a corner, down the street to a parallel one to the one on which they had met. As they walked, Hermione felt her legs very weak, as if she would fall at any moment, a mix of happiness, surprise, doubt and fear along with embarrassment assaulting her. And love. Yes, she had loved him, for all this time.

Sadness was also part of the array of emotions making her slightly unstable, because she couldn’t help but think of all the time she had wasted being stupid. The opportunities of being potentially happy, wasted. But he was there, right next to her, right now. _Just enjoy this. Reconnect, even if just as friends again._ Just a conversation with him could make her smile for a week, she well remembered. She wished she could take his arm, to keep up with him, with his long strides, and not fall on her face and make more of a fool of herself than what she surely would already.

Severus was nervous as well. He had secretly hoped for this meeting for years now, despite his best efforts to push it all down and drown it somewhere deep inside. It conflicted him because on the one hand, he didn’t think he could handle seeing her with Weasley and their two kids – at least there were two when last he had had it in him to seek for information. Perhaps there were more now. He did not know what would tear him up the most: seeing her happy with him, or seeing her still anguished as she mostly seemed when they had their everyday encounters. It killed him that he had had the happiness to fall in love a second time in his miserable life, and with a kinder and sweeter soul, a much more intelligent woman, infinitely more compatible with him, and gorgeous, but that he had only had the opportunity to realize all of that too late, with her already married, and that yet another dimwitted fool had managed to end up with the girl, while he stood alone, as he always had, with so much love to give, and the deep urge to receive it truthfully. Love would not come a third time for him, he was absolutely sure this time. He might even find someone to settle with, settle _for_ , but he would love no one else like he had, like he did, her.

On the other hand, though, he could hardly endure life without seeing her, talking to her, having the smallest bit of contact with her. He tried, forced himself to, year in and year out, but no matter what he did to distract himself, no matter how much he had accomplished in life, deep down he was still broken, and more anguished than he had ever been in life, and that was saying something for him.

So both walked quietly, afraid to learn what might have changed or improved in the other’s life. The bustle in the streets and the cold made for a good excuse for the silence, and for seeking shelter first, and fast.

In short minutes that seemed like long ones, they were in a cozy little café, warm, quieter than the street. He found a table by the window and led her to it, longing to touch her back as he did it, but refraining, refraining from touching her this whole time since that spur of the moment, ill-advised hug. Her scent had thrown him off, destroyed the brave face he wished to put on, and he had just been lost, needing her ever since. But he couldn’t even touch her. God only knew if she would give him the liberty of the simplest touch. But oh how he wanted to.

She sat down, and as he still stood beside the table and looked at her, smiling, he said “Hot cocoa, coming right up.” He took off his gloves and left them on the table, opposite her.

She smiled giddily and inadvertently. God, she had almost forgotten how gorgeous his smile was, and how good it felt that he had them for her, when he never had one for anybody else, that she had seen.

He left for the counter, and came back shortly with her hot cocoa, a cup of coffee for him, and a chocolate croissant for her. He remembered she very much liked those, and on their breaks in the lab, would often have them. While she was pregnant, her need for them grew exponentially, and he would always come into work with a few, which would wait on his desk for her.

“Thank you,” she smiled. “You really didn’t have to,” she said shyly, but emotional that he cared enough to remember.

He just waved a hand as if saying it was nothing.

She had already shed a layer of clothes and her scarf, and he did the same, showing a black turtleneck beneath the coat. Of course. To hide the scar. She had never really seen it. She had also taken her cap off, and tried, to no avail, to straighten her ghastly hair beneath it. It wasn’t as bushy as in her childhood, but a cap could really ruin things. She had been looking at her reflection in the window and trying to comb it with her fingers as he came back. He saw it, and smiled at her nervousness to see him, it seemed. Maybe there was something there, still.

They gazed at each other in silence for a moment as they sat across from one another. Then she spoke.

“You look great. The haircut and the gray really suit you.” She smiled.

“You look wonderful,” he said simply, sincerely.

She blushed very red. “I do not,” she said shyly, trying once again to subdue that side of her hair that wasn’t quite right, then giving up, placing her hand on her lap and leaving the tendrils on her face.

He couldn’t help himself. The sweet way in which she blushed, her glossy lips smiling shyly… he reached over and pushed her hair gently back, tucking it behind her ear, then grazing his thumb, then his knuckles, softly on her cheek. “Yes you do.”

Again she found herself trying not to cry, and quickly said something to avoid it as he pulled his hand back to himself. “How have you been? What have you been doing? Why are you in New York?”

He smirked. “The curious little Gryffindor, as ever.” He paused, his eyes piercing her soul in the most wonderful way, making her heart race and her cheeks turn red yet again. He should really control himself. This was disrespectful of him, he thought. So he took a deep breath to steady his feelings, just boiling beneath the surface, and continued. This wouldn’t be a problem if he could still be his closed off old self with her. But she had broken through that completely long ago, with her kindness and understanding, attentiveness and friendship. “I… recently started a business. An apothecary. And since it’s been doing okay in the UK, there was an offer for a branch here, in the… well, in _our_ part of town, of course. So I’ve been seeing to that. It opened yesterday.”

“That’s great! And what is it called? I will take my potion needs to it exclusively now.”

“E.W.B Potions.”

Her jaw dropped. There had been one of those popping up in virtually every magical neighborhood in Britain. There was one close to hers, although she now lived in a muggle neighborhood, she would go over to the magical part and go to that shop often. Just to browse. Because it partly smelled like him, his lab, and those happy days she had spent in his company.

“That’s yours? I have one close to me. It’s… wonderful. Really. Congratulations. I would never have guessed it was yours, the initials have nothing to do with yours…” She often wondered who E.W.B might be, if she might know him.

“That is quite the point. I think I would lose many customers were they to know the former Death Eater owns the shop,” he smirked.

“That is not true,” she said seriously. She never liked it when he demeaned himself. If only he knew how important he had been in her life. Still was.

He just snorted and sipped his coffee as she bit a piece of her croissant.

“What does E.W.B stand for then?” She asked.

“Exceedingly Well Brewed…” His smirk came back.

She burst out laughing. She hadn’t laughed like that in such a long time. It hurt her stomach, and her neck muscles a bit. He smiled to see it, see her so loose and happy, and to know he could cause that.

“Oh… Merlin! It absolutely makes sense now. It’s definitely your shop.” She stated as her laughter died down. “But those are relatively new. What did you do before?”

“Traveled. Spent a little of my Order of Merlin money. Plus 20 years of teacher’s pay that was rotting away in Gringotts.” The smile faded a bit, fear of having to know about her life interfering with his happiness now. “And you? Where are you working?” He asked.

“Same old uninteresting desk job at the Ministry.” She smiled feebly. “Only full time now, since the kids don’t need much fawning over anymore.”

After a moment of awkward silence, he said “I thought about looking you up countless times.”

“Why didn’t you?” She asked tenderly.

“I… was not sure it would be welcomed.” She did hang up on him a lot when she had moved.

“It would be very, _very_ welcomed. I missed you. I just… didn’t look you up because I didn’t even know where to start.” The Ministry had no more information on him. And she couldn’t very well ask them to find him. That sort of thing would go through the Auror department.

“I missed you too,” he said quietly, that soul bearing, loving gaze fixed on hers again. After a few thudding heartbeats of silence, he continued. “How have you been? How are those kids?”

“They’re good. Rose is in third year.”

“Hmmm. I wonder if she will sneak into the Shrieking Shack like her mother did?” He said, feigning deep thought, touching a finger to his chin.

“God, I hope not.” She laughed softly. “Hugo just got accepted now.”

“Hugo. How proper for a Frenchman,” he smiled.

It was her turn to look at him with longing in her eyes. He was every bit as sweet and interested in her as he used to be. She could very well still love him. This could get painful, complicated. She sipped her cocoa.

“Come on, Herms,” he said. “Break out those pictures every parent is dying to show everyone. I know you are no different.” He smiled.

She smiled and playfully stuck out her tongue at him as she reached for her phone. She needn’t even open anything, they were her screensaver.

He looked at the picture and smiled. “They’re lucky. They look like you. I truly hope they also got your smarts,” he finished, a little under his breath.

She sniggered. “Do you… do you have any kids? Are you married?” She asked with a hint of fear of the answer.

He snorted. “No.” He then quickly changed the subject back to her. He didn’t want to get into that. He’d have to explain that she was the only one he ever wanted to make his, have kids with. He wasn’t even a fan of kids – mostly because they always bullied him, even as an adult – until she got pregnant. He quite enjoyed caring for her, watching the development, holding little Rose.

“Where are they? The kids.” He refrained from mentioning Weasley on purpose. The thought brought a bitter taste to his mouth.

“They’re at the Burrow for Christmas.”

Severus raised a curious eyebrow.

“Christmas is with their father this year. I’ll get them for New Year’s.”

Severus looked at her puzzled while the pieces fit in his head and the fire of hope lit in his belly.

“I divorced him. It’s been on the papers a bit.”

“I don’t read those rags.”

Well, that explained it then. Him not knowing. Perhaps it even explained why he didn’t go after her. She took a deep breath. “I should have done it sooner.” She couldn’t look at him, and so she played with her empty cup on the table.

“You… did it when you thought it felt right. You can’t blame yourself.”

“Yeah, but… there was so much sorrow, and so many… missed opportunities I wish I had taken.” She looked up, straight in his eyes, and a little jolt of electricity ran through her. Through him as well. She looked down at her cup again. “So much good that could have happened to me.”

“Well, if the opportunity was meant to be, perhaps the window will still be open. And if what was to happen was truly good and worthy of you, it will have waited.”

“Will it, thought?” She looked at him again.

He reached out his hand to cover hers, caress hers, and leaned in, hunching over the table, to be closer to her. “Yes,” he said, caressing her hand. And it was like fire burned through both of them, starting where they touched and spreading hot and fast up to their necks. It didn’t even feel like it snowed outside up until a few moments ago. He then picked up her hand and took it to his lips, brushing her knuckles with it before actually kissing the back of her hand.

She smiled and blushed as if she were a young virgin, being wooed for the first time. Well, it was the first time she was being properly wooed.

After a moment of awkward silence and him having let go of her hand, he spoke again. “So… you decided to enjoy freedom in New York a bit.”

“Yes. Someone dear to me suggested once that I might like it, and it has been on my mind ever since.” She was less bashful, looking him straight in the eyes and smiling.

“And what were the plans for this evening, before I interrupted so rudely?”

She sniggered. “Just seeing the tree at Rockefeller Center, I guess.”

“Will you allow me to be your guide?”

“Certainly!” She said excitedly.

He stood and wrapped his scarf around his neck, stuffing his gloves in his pocket after pulling his coat on. She was putting her outer layer back on as well, following his lead, but she was still sat down.

“Shall we then?” He offered her his hand. She took it, heart leaping in her chest, and they walked out of the shop and all the way back to 5th Avenue. Hand in hand. There she was, 40 years old, feeling like a teenager. Walking down the street hand in hand with a gorgeous man she secretly loved.

He was feeling steadily more confident after her veiled confession in the coffee shop and the fact she did not shy away from holding his hand. Neither of them wore gloves, even though it was cold, just so they could feel each other’s skin. It was the longest he had ever touched her. And Merlin knew he had wanted to, for years.

Once they were at Rockefeller Plaza, the light show she had stopped to see earlier was starting again across the street. And the view was better from that sidewalk. She stopped to watch, and he gladly stopped with her, resting his hands on her shoulders, using every ounce of willpower he had not to embrace her and nuzzle her neck. He had to be content in smelling her hair discretely as she was mesmerized by the bright lights.

She wasn’t that mesmerized, though. His hand on her shoulders distracted her, and she wished he would hold her properly as she remembered the couples all around her earlier, embracing. She wished she could snuggle back into him and feel his body, see if she caused enough of a reaction in him that it would show through the layers. She hadn’t caused a reaction in anyone for a decade now.

When the show was over, she heard his voice next to her ear. “Come on, Herms,” it said, and his hand snaked its way into hers again, pulling her towards the opposite way, to see the tree. She took his hand and followed gladly, smiling widely, a bit girlishly even.

They were suddenly standing next to the ice skating rink, across from the tree, looking up at it.

“Oh wow… Sev, it’s gorgeous. Majestic.” She tried to take in every little detail, every decoration, every light, while below her people swished back and forth across the ice.

“Not as gorgeous as you,” he tried boldly, whispering in her ear. There was no bad reaction. That was a god sign. But what he couldn’t see was that she smiled, and a shiver – definitely not due to the cold – ran down her spine.

“I need a picture of this moment,” she said, and took out her phone. She turned to take a selfie, the tree in the background, the skating rink below, and he stepped out of the way. “Oh no no, you need to be in the picture too!” He absolutely had to. If everything else failed, she would have this picture to cherish for the rest of her life, something she had not had so far.

He just raised an eyebrow.

“Please, Sev.” She stretched out her hand.

There was no way he could say no to her. He took her hand and stood beside her, staring into her phone’s screen, trying not to look too annoyed. He never did like taking pictures, or looking at himself for that matter.

“Smile,” she said as she snuggled closer to his face, and he obviously did, just because he was close to her, smelling her sweet flowery scent. And because of that, she took the perfect picture.

“Let’s go,” he said in a hushed tone next to her ear again, as she put her phone away. Excitement swelled up in her stomach as it did flips.

“Where?” She asked giddily. She was indeed acting like a stupid teenager, but she couldn’t help it. He was making her feel young, and stupid… and happy.

“Down there, to skate.”

She turned to him abruptly, surprised. “Oh no, no, no,” she said, desperately nervous.

“You cannot _not_ ice skate at Rockefeller Plaza during Christmas. It will be as if you never came.”

“No, no, I can’t ice skate. I’ll make a fool out of myself, Sev.”

“Herms, look around. No one actually knows how to ice skate.”

She looked back at the rink and saw indeed most of the people there struggled. “But I don’t see anyone falling on their faces, which I will certainly do.”

“I’ll be right there to catch you.”

He made her blush and smile coyly again. For the umpteenth time that evening. And he spoke so close to her face. Just a few inches more…

“Come,” he took her hand and gently tugged her down to the rink.

She tried to pay for herself, since he had taken care of the cocoa and croissant, but he wouldn’t have it. Once the skates were on, he stepped onto the rink and patiently waited for her to pluck up the courage to follow him. He then commenced leading her around the rink, slowly, always holding her hand. She sort of awkwardly walked more than skated. He laughed softly at it.

“You might want to try sliding a bit. It will flow better.” He smiled, still holding her hand. She just blushed yet again, embarrassed, and a bit hopeful his sweet ways with her meant something… more. She had missed that so much, his sweetness. She wanted to jump into bed with him, tell him she loved him, always had, since they worked together in that lab of his. But she couldn’t risk being too forward, too nutty. This was going well. So well.

She managed to get better at the task at hand and could fool an onlooker that she could actually skate. They made their way around the rink a couple of times, following the slowish crowd, until she finally lost her balance, and would surely fall face first on the ice. Except he wrapped his arm around her waist swiftly, pressing her against his body. They looked at each other as she found support on his chest, and for that moment it was like time, the whole world, had stopped. There weren’t dozens of people skating around them, hundreds in the plaza, thousands in the streets being loud. There was just the two of them, silence, his deep dark eyes staring into her soul through her whiskey ones. Both their nervous smiles faded. And all those confused, unexpressed feelings from years ago, suppressed, avoided, but never forgotten, boiled up in full force and were now painted clearly in their eyes.

Severus half leaned down, slowly, half pulled her up against him, so his lips could finally, _finally_ , meet hers. And just the gentle joining of them was like fire.

There they stood, immobile for a moment, lips pressed together. Then he gave into his wishes, seeing as there was no objection from her part, and he moved to gingerly suckle on her lower lip.

His taste, his warmth and moisture, the tenderness of his kiss, which she yearned to feel for years, made her heart race. The smell of his cologne, his skin, was intoxicating. He suckled on her lips again and she responded in kind, and when his tongue came forth to tease her lips open, she granted him access swiftly. His tongue explored her mouth, caressed her tongue, entangled with hers, and made her core tighten. She would have gasped at the feeling weren’t her mouth otherwise engaged. When his tongue pulled back, hers followed it into his mouth, to taste him, explore him, like he had her. He tasted of coffee and his own, delicious flavor, and their tongues caressing one another made excitement pull harder in her core. The fact his hand, the one not holding her up close to him, cupped her cheek, his thumb caressing it, only made her swoon more.

His tongue chased hers back into her mouth, to once again taste her own sweetness, mixed with that of the chocolate she had ingested. And when they finally parted, he caught her lower lip in between his and tugged gently.

She was saddened it had ended. She wanted to kiss him forever. But before she could even take a proper breath, much less complain about the end of the kiss, his lips were on hers again. And this time… oh, this time, his fingers dug deep into her mane, and they pulled her close with passion and earnest. It made her center tighten to the point of cramping. His tongue explored hers with more hunger and complete abandon. His lips encompassed more of her lips, more firmly, full of lust. She responded in kind, and once they parted, both were breathless.

“Let’s go to my place,” he rumbled indecently next to the corner of her lips as he rubbed his hooked nose on her cheek.

She let out something between a whimper and a muffled yelp at the thought of being in his bed, being kissed like that throughout the night, among other things. That line between her navel and her core pulled tight yet again.

“Am I being too forward?” he asked, pulling back slightly to better evaluate her reaction.

“No. No. Let’s go. We’ve wasted too much time already.” She smiled, as did he, and he led the way to exit the rink.

They took rushed and firm steps down the street, turning to another, finding a dark empty alley. He wanted to press her to the brick wall and ravish her mouth again right there, but any corner of this city did not stay empty for long. So he pulled her close to him and disapparated them out of there at once, before someone showed up.

They popped up directly in his living room. It was a nice, clean, tidy place, soberly decorated, she noticed as he took her coat and scarf and cap, placing them in a closet by the front door. She then noticed the ample floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall windows, and the majestic view. She hurried to take a look as he shed his own outer layer by the door.

“I’ll be right back,” he said as she admired the view. “Stay right there.”

She didn’t even pay much attention, absorbed in what she saw. The apartment didn’t directly face Central Park, a street or two separated the building from it. But his building was tall enough and his flat high up enough that one could see the park. There also weren’t many buildings in the way, to hinder the breathtaking view. Only one actually got close to being tall enough, but it ended a couple of floors below Severus’.

She saw the top of leafless, snow-covered trees, the city lights against the night sky, and it was so beautiful. She told him as much as she heard him entering the room again, and approaching her from behind.

“I can only imagine what it looks like during the day. In the summer.”

His hands weaved their way in between her arms and her sides, around her waist, holding her close to him. She could feel his hardening cock against her bum. He then pushed her hair aside with his nose and kissed her neck. It made her quiver.

“Care to come back in the summer to see for yourself?” He said softly, then nipped her ear. Her only response was to hum as she smiled, caressing his arms around her. “Because you will see it in daylight soon enough,” he rumbled in her ear, and her knees buckled at the sound of his silky voice, his lustful tone.

His hands lightly caressed her thighs over her leggings, up, up to the limit of where she wanted to be touched by him, then they stopped. His lips were on her neck all the while.

She turned to face him and swiftly his mouth covered hers, claimed them hungrily. One of his thighs made its way to rest in between hers, and the pressure on her long neglected center became slightly overwhelming. She pulled away from him to catch her breath.

“I… I need to tell you something,” she stuttered as his lips trailed soft kisses down her cheek to her neck.

“Hmmm?” He let out whilst his lips were otherwise busy.

“I… haven’t done this in ten years.”

He pulled back and his eyes widened in surprise despite himself. Still, he held her by the waist. “Do you… want to stop?” He asked, looking softly to her bashful countenance.

“Oh God, no!”

He smiled and leaned back down to graze his teeth on her neck.

“I just…” she paused as she shivered due to his soft nips, “told you because… you might need to have some patience with me.”

“Hermione,” he breathed, moving his lips to her ear, “I have waited for you…” he licked a small stretch of skin on her neck, up to her ear, “for fifteen years.” Her heart swelled, and her hands snaked up from his chest to his neck. “I think patience is a virtue I do possess when it comes to you.” He tasted her lips again, tenderly, his tongue teasing hers slowly. “Besides,” he added when they parted briefly, after he nipped her bottom lip, only so his lips could brush against the corner of hers, “I want to savor you, slowly, you magnificent witch. To slowly quench my fifteen-year thirst.”

His lips covered hers again, claiming them with hunger, and she gave herself completely. His hands slid slowly down from her waist to her bum, and then abruptly lifted her off the floor, their lips never parting. She braced herself on his shoulders and wrapped her legs around him as best she could before he started moving, carrying her towards the room he had disappeared into before, his bedroom – the only bedroom in the flat.

That room was also soberly decorated, and would feel almost like a posh hotel room weren’t it for the shelves of books in a corner. A small collection for Severus Snape, but that was due to the fact her did not spend most of his time in this country. The ample floor-to-ceiling windows with the view were also a feature here. Hermione of course didn’t see any of this just then, as all she cared about was his tongue entangled with hers and the arousal she could feel on her pussy – her arousal and his. She just briefly noticed the room was dimly lit by the light of dozens of candles, making the atmosphere very romantic.

His bed was high, so he less dropped her and more placed her on it, and only then did their lips part to allow their heavy breathing to try and even out. It of course wouldn’t, for quite a while to come.

He held her cheeks, his fingers dipping into her hair, gently caressing her scalp, making her quicken, and he smiled shamelessly as she looked up at him. She began to push herself back onto the bed, towards the headboard, smiling in what she hoped was an enticing, provocative way. It really had been too long. She was nervous, wondering if she still knew how to shag, if she ever had known how to do it well. Her nerves could very well be of the petrifying kind, but the way he looked at her, the utter desire and tenderness in his eyes, his hungry and soft kisses… it all made the fear fade to the background, as did the pooling arousal in her core, and the utter need to be with him at last. If his kisses were any indication, this would be a very enjoyable ride. She did not remember ever being kissed like this. Of course it had been so long, she hardly remembered being kissed at all.

As she pushed back, his hand slid down her body, touching every inch of her as he had dreamed of for years. The fact she was fully covered in winter clothes did not matter… yet. His hand glided over her breasts, then stomach, over her jumper, and stopped at the hem of her thick leggings. He traced it, having pushed her jumper up to expose a small portion of her skin, which he lazily caressed. He tucked a finger in her leggings, and her breath caught. He smirked, and gently pulled on the hem, all around her stomach. He then let go, and slid his hand down her legs, over her leggings still, to pull her boots off.

That he did, then kicked his own boots off before climbing over her, simply needing to taste her lips again.

They snogged, slowly, savoring each other, making up for lost time and long pent up desires. She ran her fingers through his short, gray hair, enjoying the feel of the fine, silky tendrils. As they lay on their sides, he dared to reach under her layers and feel the warm skin of her back and side, lightly tracing it, exploring her, learning every spot that made her react. And he did learn that her back was rather sensitive, as he traced what he could of her spine starting at her lower back, and she arched into him and whimpered softly into his mouth as every hair on her body stood on end, pulling at her skin, as did the excitement pull in her belly. He smirked against her lips as his brushed hers, before her tongue teased his mouth open once again and they continued to taste each other more deeply.

It started to become a little too warm. They were both flushing, breathing heavily as they pulled back to look at one another. Since she had asked for patience, he was waiting for her to make a move, indicate she wanted to go forward. He got all the notice he needed when her delicate hand reached up his jumper and shirt, and began to trace the old war scars that still remained on his stomach and sides, as they pecked each other’s lips.

It usually would make him self-conscious, his scars. But she knew him, knew what he had done, what he had been, what he had gone through. He had shared details of things that caused him shame as she slowly pulled him in 15 years ago, and still, she had stayed his friend back then. And still she showed interest now. So, since the heat inside him grew exponentially, as did other parts of him, he pulled off his wool turtle neck, leaving the thinner, dark gray turtle neck beneath it. She smiled, and slid her hands up his chest as her lips reached for his again. The neck on this shirt was slightly lower, so part of his scar – his nearly fatal scar – peeked out from under it. Her fingers reached it as they kissed, and gently traced the small piece that inched out. Her fingers traveled up…. And down. Strangely, he rather liked it. The skin being more sensitive made something tug at his navel, and his lips covered hers more hungrily and demandingly.

Once they parted, he pulled her jumper off, along with whatever layer she wore underneath, and threw them to the floor, out of the way. He then took pause to admire her form in the candlelight. He seemed to take an eternity looking at her, his eyes sparkling in desire as he licked his lips. His hands began to caress the curve of her waist and slowly move up.

She became self-conscious. Her figure wasn’t quite what it used to be, as Ronald hat often remarked, even if he only saw her dressed for the last decade. She had that scar on her chest, courtesy of Dolohov, not to mention the word on her arm. But that one he had already seen as they worked in the lab. To add insult to injury, she had only packed plain, old, comfortable, worn, cotton bras and knickers. She wasn’t even sure she still owned sexy lingerie anymore. She certainly did not think she would be needing them any time soon.

“Had I known there was the slightest possibility of this encounter happening, I would certainly have worn something more exhilarating,” she said, blushing.

He leaned in to kiss her cheek, then whispered in her ear “ _You’re_ exhilarating. I’m ecstatic just to see this much of you.” He nipped her ear then lowered his lips, so he could lick her neck. “Perhaps you would like to feel just how ecstatic I am,” he rumbled against her skin, and pulled her leg over his hip, so she could feel his very hard wool covered cock grazing her also still covered center. She moaned very wantonly as his lips descended further, to her scar on her chest, the one he had heard of but never seen, kissing it, licking it, hand grazing her nipple over the bra.

Her hand reached for his belt and undid it while she still reveled in his kissing of her chest. She then unbuttoned his trousers, and proceeded to gently squeezing and stroking his erection over it.

He emitted a guttural, deep sound against her scar, showing his arousal and approval of what she did, and his hand lowered the cup of her bra so his mouth could proceed to warming her breast with his hot breath and warm saliva. He rolled his tongue on her nipple, tugged at it with his lips, grazed his teeth on it, and the connection to her core pulled tighter.

“Oh… Sev…” she whimpered as she still caressed his hard-on over his trousers.

His fingers eased the strap of her bra from her shoulder and his lips traveled up to her neck again. He then reached behind her to unclasp it, and pulled it off her completely. She was only annoyed she had to let go of his cock for that.

He stared at her breasts as insecurity once again filled her mind. But the words he uttered before lowering his lips to feast on them, both this time, made such foolishness evade her mind. “Fucking perfection,” he had said.

She encouraged his suckling of her nipples with her hands in his hair for only a small while before she finally felt comfortable enough to take charge, all the insecurity and bad memories forgotten as blinding excitement took over. She pulled his shirt up as much as she could with him latched on to her breasts, and then he pulled back, allowing her to take it off completely. Her lips then claimed his, hands tracing his scar down to his chest, eyes following as their lips parted, to see his muscular yet lean form. He was handsome in his own right, charming. She wished she could have seen it sooner, following the war immediately. So she could have been right here with him longer.

Her fingers played with his chest hair, mostly gray but a few black ones still present, and followed their trail down the middle of his stomach to dip into his trousers. He had just watched thus far, a smirk on his face, but as her warm hand palmed his hard cock, he groaned, the smile leaving his face completely.

She stroked and squeezed, amazed and excited with how big he was, and his breathing grew heavier. She let go to pull his trousers and boxers off, and he helped, kicking them off once they were down to his knees. When she was about to wrap her fingers around his girth again, he stopped her by holding her wrist.

“I don’t want this to end too quickly,” he said, “and I’m having a hard enough time as it as without that soft hand of yours fondling me.” His fingers shifted from her wrist to intertwine with hers. “Let’s take care of you first,” he rumbled as he pinned her hand to the bed and shifted half his body onto hers, taking her lips passionately, snaking his thigh in between hers.

She began to slowly roll her hips on his thigh, inadvertently, craving something her body hadn’t had in long. He let go of her hand and covered her pussy – over the leggings she still wore – and teased, rubbed. Her breathing grew labored, even if the contact was not direct, and she bit her lip, cupping his cheek, caressing his hair. He smiled, and moved to dip his hand into her leggings to continue his teasing, still over her knickers though. She desperately pushed her leggings down to the middle of her thighs as best she could with his teasing of her and nipping of her neck, the soft flesh that joined it to her shoulder – yet another spot he discovered drove her insane – robbing her of focus.

“Take it off,” she pleaded breathlessly, and he abandoned all his tasks to pull her legging off. That enabled her to spread her legs as wide as she wished.

He hovered over her, teasing her lips, suckling them, licking them, and his fingers returned to teasing her pussy between their bodies. Except now, her knickers weren’t quite in place; they shifted to one side, exposing one side of her labia. So she received some direct contact as his digits teased her only on the outside, rubbing her from side to side, in circles, tracing her slit and outer labia, never dipping in to find her clit. She was swollen, very read for him, enough that she felt good friction when he rubbed her, even if he did not do it directly. So her breathing and anticipation grew.

His lips traveled down her body, sucking on a breast, licking a line down her navel, until they reached her half covered mound and kissed gently. He then covered it whole with his mouth. Then, he licked what was exposed of her labia. He kissed her inner thighs, one side, then the other, grazed his teeth on it, and as he did that, he rubbed all his fingers flat on her pussy. The teasing made her writhe in bed, going half insane with anticipation. Until he finally, _finally_ , pulled the crotch of her knickers fully aside, exposing all of her as she spread her legs even wider, and he started to lick and suck on her clit. A moan of relief and pleasure filled the room.

He had done a very good job of preparing her, chasing her insecurities and nervousness away, so she was extremely wet. So much so that in addition to her whimpers and moans, the sound of her moistness on his mouth could be heard.

He pulled away briefly, to take her knickers off, and he could hear her soft protest at his absence. He smirked, and returned to his duties, savoring her as he had always wished to do, licking the length of her, sucking her clit, teasing her swollen entrance, to further prepare her for him. Whilst he did all this, he looked up at her, admiring her reactions, feeling pride in how he made her squirm and moan, whimper and roll her head back onto the pillows.

One of her hands rested on her hip bone, trying to reach herself and give herself more pleasure, needing more, but he was doing such a complete and thorough job she didn’t even know what else could be done. Her other hand rested on the back of his head, caressing it, holding him against her core, his nose to rub her clit as he licked her folds and dipped his tongue into her entrance, making her yelp.

His hand, the one holding her leg open, reached for her hand on her hip bone and he intertwined his fingers with hers as the other hooked around her leg. She squeezed his hand and rocked herself gently against his face as her pleasure built unlike she had ever felt before.

“Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes,” she whimpered, holding his hand and holding his head, rocking her hips faster against him inadvertently as all awareness of her surroundings evaded her body. She whimpered until her words turned into incoherent mumbling, and then just a hiss.

And then she came, so marvelously hard her vision turned white and colorful spots filled it soon after. She also felt as if she had wet herself.

When she finally managed to open her eyes again, after repeatedly feeling waves of pleasure he triggered by continuously licking her through her orgasm, kissing and nipping her inner thighs, she saw that indeed she had wet herself a bit, and his face.

Even though she was far past comparisons, having established very early on, perhaps even before they had actually met again, that Severus would far surpass the only other lover she had ever had, she couldn’t help but think that something like this would annoy him, if not enrage him, as would the fact she had rubbed herself against him, she now realized.

“I’m sorry,” she said, still panting, as he kissed the flesh under her navel.

“Whatever for?” He continued to peck her stomach, then hoisted himself up so that his face hovered over hers. He licked his lips clean of whatever of her essence was still on them, and seemed to enjoy it.

“For this,” she wiped his lips with her thumb, even though there was nothing apparent anymore.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked already very aware of the answer, which is why he smirked.

“So much,” she blushed a little.

“So did I. You are delicious, Hermione.”

She blushed very red now.

“You don’t believe me?” He suckled on her bottom lip. “Taste for yourself.” And he claimed her lips completely.

She felt so naughty, so dirty, tasting her own essence, that her excitement began to mount again. And then, she felt his hard length against her moist slit, and she just needed to have him, despite her strong release moments ago that should have left her completely satisfied.

A hand came to rest on the back of his neck and the other hooked under his arm to rest on his shoulder blade as she pulled her knees up slightly. He understood it as a plea, so he could finally do what he had only dreamed of up until a few hours ago. He guided himself into her, slowly, and the feel of her warmth had him groaning into her mouth. She moaned as she felt him fill her, and verified that he was very large indeed. But it was wonderful. He filled every inch of her.

Neither of them thought of contraception. Their need was too great and it overshadowed their judgement. Besides, Hermione hadn’t needed to worry about it in over ten years. So it just didn’t register. And even when she did want to get pregnant, it had been hard, and had taken long. That was in her twenties. She was 40 now. There would be no harm.

Hermione parted her lips from his to roll her head back into the pillows as she moaned at the mere feel of him gently invading her, but he caught her bottom lip with his teeth as she pushed back, only adding to the swirl of sensations that coursed through her. He then took the opportunity to lick her throat, and she moaned once more.

They moved as one, as her fingers played with the short hair behind his head, the other hand searching for purchase on his shoulder blade, fingertips sinking into him, nails gently scratching him when pleasure rippled through her. He cradled her head as his forearms supported him, and they looked into each other’s eyes, and it was tender and slow, sweet, smoldering. It made both their hearts swell and feelings deeper and older than the desire that had driven them from the streets to his flat fill their hearts. She could cry at how happy she was to be with him, finally, to be living this, to simply be… happy. Completely. He would never admit to it, but he could cry as well. He couldn’t believe that finally luck seemed to be on his side, for once in his life. And it was okay that it was this once in 59 years, for it was when it mattered the most, it was to grant him what he had wanted more than anything in his entire life.

He caressed her cheek with his thumb and gingerly kissed her lips, while his hips still thrust into her with tender passion. She smiled once they parted, and brushed a lock of his gray hair back from his forehead, only to have it fall back.

“You’re beautiful,” she could not help but say, and just then he hit the perfect spot inside her, and she moaned, biting her lips after.

He turned to kiss her palm, the one that held his cheek, and managed to take a finger into his mouth and suck.

“No words can describe… how magnificent you are. In every way,” his breathing was labored as he tried to hold off his pleasure. “And you are perhaps blinded by pleasure,” he teased.

“I am not,” she started, but before she could continue to praise him, he took her lips with his, his tongue plundering her mouth as his cock did her center, so as to stop her from making him self-conscious. He hooked one of her legs behind him, and started to snap his hips more firmly, albeit still in a slow pace.

Their lips parted and she was free to whimper and breathe sharply through her nose as her pleasure mounted faster. Her hands slid down to his buttocks and pulled him closer. He was firm. He was fit, especially for his age. There were blokes who weren’t this well when they were 30 years his junior, she knew it well.

He nipped her earlobe, then nuzzled her neck, and his heavy breathing and grunts so close to her ear only served to make her further aroused. And then, to her surprise, she reached orgasm again, those white lights blurring her vision as she scratched his waist and cried out “Oh, Sev, yes!”

He couldn’t hold on much longer after that, and his body froze on top of hers as he felt his release and whispered “Hermione” against her neck.

He fell to her side, belly down, and tried to catch his breath. He smiled into the pillow, so pleased, so happy she was there, with him. He briefly wondered if it would be wise to declare love now. He had no doubt in his mind and heart he felt it. And there was something on her side too, he could feel it.

She smiled giddily, deeply satisfied as well, wishing to remain right there forever. The only thing that could make it better was if he embraced her.

“I need a bit of sleep,” he muttered in a slurred voice.

“Do you want me to leave?” She asked.

His arm immediately came to rest atop her, pulling her to him as he turned on his side. Suddenly she was tightly wrapped in his arms, just like she wanted, her back to his bare chest.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said next to her ear. “I never want to be parted from you, ever again,” he breathed. She smiled, snuggling back into him, caressing his arm wrapped over her chest, hand on her heart. Her heart pounded and her stomach fluttered in joy. He could feel her heartbeat increase and was filled with joy himself.

“I am merely stating…” he continued, “that I am an old man, and as such I need to rest a bit. Because I assure you, we are not done yet.”

“We aren’t?” She asked mischievously.

“No. We have a lot of lost time to make up for,” he said, and nipped her neck before falling into a slumber.


	3. Chapter 3

Hermione ended up falling asleep in his arms. There could be no greater peace, she was sure of it. She would probably sleep better than she ever had since before the war. But it didn’t feel like she was asleep long before arousal began to pull at her core again. It pulled hard all of a sudden, and she woke up gasping. It took a moment for her to realize that Severus nuzzled her neck, licking it, nipping the flesh that joined it to her shoulder and that made her quiver every time. That spot had hardly ever been explored before. He then grazed his teeth on the spot between her shoulder blades, and chills ran down her spine.

His hands… his strong, masculine hands were in between her thighs, teasing her pussy again, what he could of it anyway. And his cock… it was rock hard again, against her bum.

She turned slightly, so she could be able to reach his lips with hers, and to spread her legs, granting him better access to her. She hungrily, desperately claimed his lips as two of his fingers sank into her slit and rubbed her clit directly. He granted her access to his mouth, and the hunger she felt he returned, their tongues battling for dominance as his fingers moved faster, and her hips matched his pace. She was already so very horny. Merlin knew how long he had been fondling her in her sleep, and it certainly got the job done.

Their lips parted and her hand found his hard-on pressed to her thigh. She stroked him, licking her lips.

“And you have the audacity to call yourself an old man,” she said amidst labored breaths, as she squeezed his prick gently, and then rolled her thumb over his tip.

He grunted, and sunk his middle and ring fingers into her folds, letting the heel of his hand take over the rubbing of her clit as his fingers gently thrust into her and, being hooked, found that spongy spot inside her that made her hips buck against his hand. She muffled her moan by biting her lower lip.

“This is all your magic, witch. You put a spell on me long ago.” He smiled.

She still fondled his cock, but was losing focus on the task at hand quickly, due to his ministrations.

“Let me ride you, Sev,” she pleaded, panting, whimpering, moaning, all at once.

“Come for me first, Herms,” he whispered in her ear. “Come for me. Come on my hand, you sweet, delicious witch.”

She just nodded, eyes turned to tiny slits as lust took over and she rocked her hips against his hand with despair almost, and he thrust his fingers in and out of her, tapping her clit with the heel of his hand in the process.

“Yesyesyesyesyesyesyes,” she whimpered against his chest, gripping his side, moistening his chest hairs with a bit of her drool. He knew she was close and increased the pace.

“Fuck yes!” She cried louder as that mounting arousal seemed to explode in her and make relief wash over her, blinding her, and making her wet his hand. Fuck, he was good. She wasn’t even aware that could happen to her. She had never, ever come three times in one night. She probably hadn’t ever come three times in a week.

As she still laid limp and blind, catching her breath, she didn’t quite register that he had moved from lying beside her to kneeling before her on the bed. She only regained focus as his large cock entered her very moist and willing channel. She hummed in appreciation.

Once again he moved slowly, and she looked at him, smiling, lovingly. He reached down and palmed her breasts, teased her nipples with his thumb and index fingers, as his hips met hers over and over. She arched her back, moaned, and reached for her clit, to slowly, lazily tease it. He lifted one of her legs, her foot to rest on his shoulder, so he could suck on her neatly done toe, which made her quicken all over, sending bolts of arousal and pleasure shooting through her body. He smirked at her reaction as she increased her rubbing of herself, and sucked on her toe once again. She squirmed, arched her back, moaning, reaching to try and scratch his waist, searching for purchase. Yet another spot he would engrave on his memory, to make her quicken and come undone for as long as she would let him.

“Sev…” she breathed, hand still on his waist, scratching, trying to pull him to her. He lowered her leg to wrap around him, and lowered himself to press against her. She claimed his lips passionately and rolled hips more earnestly.

“I want to ride your cock,” she felt bold enough to breathe next to his ear once their lips parted, her hand on the back of his neck, holding his cheek to hers, caressing his short hair. “Let me ride you, baby,” she pleaded in a whisper, their hips meeting at a faster pace.

He growled his approval lowly in the back of his throat, and when she pushed to flip over him, he offered no resistance. She sat on him, her hands taking support on his chest, and she rocked her hips on him, her pussy slippery against the length of his cock, since it had slipped out of her as they switched positions. She then lifted herself, and took his cock in her hand, slowly brushing the tip along her slit, teasing her clit with it, biting her lips, and his deep black eyes shimmered like a body of water under moonlight, with desire, as he watched.

She finally impaled herself on him, and moaned wantonly as she did so. He gripped her hips and she rocked on him, sinking her fingertips on his chest.

“Fuck… Sev,” she whined in pleasure. “You’re so big.”

“Is that a bad thing?” He smirked.

“Not at all,” she breathed.

His fingers lightly grazed her sides, and she quivered. They then reached behind her and traced her spine, her lower back, and she arched it, her center clenching around his cock. She began to roll faster on him. He smirked, and she leaned down to kiss his smirk away. They teased each other’s lips with so much hunger. She just couldn’t get enough of him, of his kisses. So tender, yet passionate. Like kissing her was the best thing he could ever do. Like it was the only thing he needed in the world. And it was.

His hand was embedded in her untamed mane, and once their lips parted, he held her forehead to his, looking into her yes, rubbing his nose on hers.

As she hoisted herself up a bit, hands taking support beside his head, trying for more impulse to roll herself on him faster, he took one of her breasts in his mouth, sucked on it hard, releasing it with a pop as his fingers ran up her spine again. The quiver that ran through her made her utter need for him increase, and her hips just rocked on him at a frenetic pace, her core clenching his cock every time his fingers so much as ghosted her back.

She leaned down and touched her forehead to his again, giving his lips just a small peck, since she was panting heavily. He in turned nipped her chin.

“Come with me,” she breathed against his mouth, her hips moving desperately, his hands gripping her ass and encouraging it. “Come with me, Sev.”

One of his hands snaked in between their bodies and lightly nudged her clit once, and it was enough to send her spiraling over the edge, nuzzling his neck now, and moaning loud into it, and into the high pillows under his head.

Her pussy furiously clenching around him drove him over the edge with her, and he pulled her hips to his as he found release in her, her hips still moving gingerly atop him. When he regained some focus, he buried his hand in her wildly unruly hair and claimed her lips with loving despair. He then moved his lips to her cheek, chin, and neck as she lay atop him, recovering her bearings.

“That was… truly spectacular,” she said lazily, with a smile. “I didn’t know I was capable of… giving so much in one evening.”

“That, my dear,” he said against the cheek he was kissing before he nipped her ear, “is a record which, with the proper attention to your needs and abilities, can be easily broken. I look forward to helping you achieve that, should you allow me.” He smiled. She smiled as well, giddily, and nodded.

“I really hope those windows are tinted, or else we’ll have given the people in that building across from here quite a show.” She saw a man having a smoke by his window on the last floor of the building opposite his, the only one tall enough to mildly spoil the view.

He chuckled at her comment and kissed her behind her ear. She smiled again and slipped to lie comfortably by his side. He turned to face her, and caressed her cheek. “How long will you stay in town?” He asked softly.

“A week. I leave on Boxing Day, to pick up the kids.”

“And what are your plans for the week, if I might ask.” He still caressed her cheek, looking into her eyes.

“I don’t know… the classic sightseeing, I guess. Buy some presents for the kids. Perhaps a bit more of this, if you’ll be around,” she smiled cheekily and grazed her nails on his chest. “What do you suggest?”

“I suggest… you let me be your guide. I can take you to all the sights, all the ridiculously large toy stores they have around here, if the kids enjoy muggle toys that is. There are also Holiday Fairs… and ice skating, at Bryant and Central parks. You could use some practice.” He smirked. She smacked his chest gently. “And then there is this, of course,” he rumbled and kissed her lips, his hand grazing her thigh.

“I want to see your shop, too,” she said as they parted, “and the magical part of town.”

“We can do that.” He turned on his back and pulled her to him, wrapping an arm around her. There was some silence as he caressed her shoulder, and she his chest hair. “So perhaps… to make the most of the time you have here, and so that you can see everything, you should… check out of your hotel and come stay here.”

She almost broke her neck due to the speed in which she looked up at him. “Seriously?”

“Yes,” he said tenderly.

“Don’t you have to work? Wouldn’t I be in your way?”

“No. The shop is open, the employees trained. Besides, nothing is more important to me than being at your disposal, by your side, and having you enjoy your trip.”

She smiled, and touched her lips to his chest.

“I should have done this sooner,” she said after a while of snuggling to him.

“Come to New York?”

“Yes. When you offered all those years ago.”

“Back then we would have had one day. Now, we will have a whole week.”

“Maybe not. If I hadn’t been so stupid…” she said quietly.

“Things happen when they should. Perhaps back then it wouldn’t have worked out properly, and now it will.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“I have to. So I don’t get bitter and filled with sorrow thinking of how long I could have had you already, how I would have given my all to treat you like you deserve and how it seems you weren’t, wondering why people who do not deserve blessings get them and take them for granted…”

She smiled and touched his cheek, so he would lower his stare from the ceiling to her. He did, and she gently, slowly, tasted his lips.

“Besides,” he continued once they parted, smiling at each other. “Our life expectancy is much greater than that of muggles. We are not even middle aged yet. I still might have a good 140 years for you to smother me with your thighs,” he smirked. “If you wish to, that is.”

She snorted. “So you change your mind whenever it suits you to make a point? Because I seem to remember that a couple of hours ago you were old and tired…” She said teasingly, grazing her nails up and down his chest, playing with his hair. The growth would be fuller, weren’t it for the scars that stumped it in some places.

“I thought you knew this. That _is_ what spies do.” His short nails grazed her arm and shoulder, up and down.

She was so happy she could stay with him there forever. She could tease him, play with him, and he understood it, he responded. They understood each other so well, still. Conversation always did come easily for them. Well, after he had opened up, of course. It felt nice to not have to watch your every word, afraid it would be taken the wrong way and would create an argument, as it often had in her past. Even the simplest jokes or opinions.

Severus was tender and attentive of her… she wanted to be with him always. He made her feel good. Her anxiety started to increase there in the silence, though, that fickle old friend of hers, and she started to wonder if he felt the same. His words and actions certainly told her he felt something for her, but was it as strong as she did for him? Would it last on his part? They hadn’t been in contact for a long while… Maybe he would think her annoying after a while, as it seemed to be the case with almost everyone else. He surely didn’t feel as deeply for her as she did for him, because that was insane. She was insane. She loved him. She had loved him since those days in the lab, when he had opened up and they had become friends, and she realized the sweet, sensitive man that hid under that hard shell, created to protect his soft interior due to years of neglect and abuse and sheer suffering. He was a beautiful person, and she was so glad she got to see it.

His care and tenderness towards her, which was absolutely lacking from elsewhere in her life, only added to that feeling. Still, it was weird. To fall in love without ever even having kissed him until a few hours ago. To remain in love after years of being apart. She wanted to tell him. But he would totally run away. It was good enough that he wanted to spend the week with her. She should enjoy that, and see where it went from there. He had insinuated something of 140 years with her, though. Love filled her chest right there, as it seldom had before. She felt the need to express it. _Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t be crazy and clingy. He will run away. Perhaps he won’t though._ Was it so crazy? He loved Lily for all that time… _That was different. You’re not her. He’ll run away, and you will never see him again, and will remain miserable and wretched for the rest of your life._

“I would not. Run away.” It was his voice, actually answering her thoughts.

She looked up at him swiftly. “Did you… use legilimency on me?” She asked, half annoyed, half ashamed.

“No. You just started to think really loud all of a sudden. Anxiety, I would guess.”

She just covered her face in shame, not quite registering that he said he wouldn’t run away.

His thumb and index finger lifted her gaze to his. “I love you, Hermione. I have loved you for the longest time, I suspect ever since you walked into my lab and seemed so pleased to work with me of all people, and to fill your free time with my company. I love you more than I have ever loved… anyone. I’ve loved you, suffered with you, suffered deeply without you. Even though we did not see each other for ten years or so, you were always on my mind. Everything I did, I thought of you, and what you would say or think about it. And I have loved you through your absence, craved you, needed you.” He caressed her cheek, relieved to say it all, and to see she smiled, and she seemed to feel it too. This woman had truly ensnared him. He never thought he was capable of opening himself up like this, and not feeling one ounce of shame in it. They had wasted so much time. His need to not waste it any longer, and to be with her, drew it all out. Only she could provoke that. “I meant it with all my heart when I said I never wanted to be apart from you again, ever. I would move in with you tomorrow if you wanted me to.”

She was speechless for a moment, touched by his beautiful words. She then touched his cheek and pulled his lips down to hers, to suck on them. She would never get tired of doing that, of his taste. It was wonderful. And she had heard the man, the love of her life, say he loved her in such a moving way. It could not get any better than that. “I love you,” she said when they parted. “I have, for the longest time. Your presence, your words, your attentiveness of me, and then later, the memory of all of it, is what kept me going. And I am beyond happy it’s not just a memory any longer.” He smiled so widely, so beautifully, and her hear swelled to see him so happy because of her. He claimed her lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

Her mind then finally jumped to the fact he said he would move in with her tomorrow if she wanted. It started to race at that, her mind, and overanalyze it.

“Are you hungry?” He asked a few moments after their lips parted. “I certainly have worked up an appetite.”

She stifled a laugh and ended up sniggering like a teenager. “Yes, I could definitely eat.”

“I wanted to cook for you, but that will take too long. Hopefully I will have the chance to do so during the week, if you decide to stay here.”

“Oh, it’s decided. I will. I will go to the hotel to retrieve my things first thing in the morning.”

He smiled. “Good.” He then swung his legs to the floor and summoned his trousers that lay forgotten somewhere in the room. “Then takeaway it is,” he said as he pulled them on.

“Isn’t it a bit late for that now?” She asked, following suit and pulling her jumper on. She hoped he didn’t mean going back out at this hour.

“This is the city that never sleeps, Herms,” he smiled.

“But… do you have to go out?” She asked, looking a bit disappointed.

“I think we can find somewhere that delivers.”

She followed him into the kitchen, her hand in his. He opened a drawer next to the door, where there was also a landline on the counter, and he took out a stack of takeaway menus. “Lady’s choice,” he said, spreading them on the counter before her.

She reluctantly let go of his hand to look through them, smiling, and found a perfect place. A diner with greasy sandwiches and chips. She chose hers and pointed it to him. He picked up the phone and dialed, leaning onto the counter, supported by his elbows. She kissed his shoulder as he held the phone to his ear. She then embraced him from behind, resting her cheek on his hunched back, then kissing some spots on it. His scars, mainly.

“Yes, hello. I’d like to place an order. A Philly Cheesesteak and a meatball sub.”

Hermione was surprised he ordered a meatball sub for himself. She thought he would order from some other place, some proper food. It wasn’t like him to eat junk like this. “Will that be all?” he echoed the question posed to him, but not directly at her, more to the person on the line, but for her to hear.

“Onion rings,” she said as she rested her chin on his back.

“Onion rings,” he said to the phone. “In lieu of fries?” He then asked.

“No!” She said very vehemently.

“ _Definitely_ a no on the substitution. So keep the fries and add a side of onion rings.”

She smiled.

“Anything else?”

“Cheesecake.”

“A slice of cheesecake for the lady,” he said into the phone.

She grazed his back with her teeth, and he jumped slightly in surprise. “Do hurry, if you could,” he said into the phone. “The lady is on the verge of cannibalism.” Hermione could hear the man on the other side of the line laughing and saying “will do” before Severus hung up.

He turned around in the circle of her arms and held her too. “Fancy a shower?”

“Yes, very much.”

“Ladies first.”  
“What do you say to us showering together?”

A low growl died in his throat, but she was able to hear it. “I say it will get us dirtier and not clean,” he smirked and kissed her nose.

“And is that a bad thing?” She asked cheekily.

“Not at all.”

They did shower together, but they both behaved… for the most part. There was some sensual lathering and teasing of each other’s privates but mostly it was just gentle and loving caresses and sweet kisses. They couldn’t take very long, or else they would miss the delivery guy. He stepped out of the shower before she had quite finished, despite having washed his hair, something she dared not do without the proper products to tame hers. He fetched her a towel, and when she finally stepped out, he was in nice dark blue flannel pajama trousers and a gray T-shirt, his hair damp. He held the towel open for her and dried her off, planting kisses on her neck. He then offered the button up shirt that went with his trousers for her to wear. She accepted and pulled it on with a smile.

Then, she finally stopped to look at herself in the mirror. Her hair was a mess. It wasn’t quite as similar to a rat’s nest as it could get in the golden days, but it was still very entangled and messy. She could do better than that. She had learned, through trial and error, how to properly handle that hair throughout the years.

“I look hideous,” she said, trying to stretch out her hair with her fingers as she looked into the mirror. She then reached for her wand, which had been left by the sink.

“You might need to get your eyes checked, Herms,” he said with a smile, looking at her adoringly as he leaned on the doorframe.

She blushed very red and smiled shyly as she cast a few spells to disentangle her hair. He continued watching from the door. “Can you not look at me like that?” She asked sheepishly. She really wasn’t used to this, to tenderness and… love.

“Like what?” He asked, amused.

“I don’t know…” she said, charming her hair into a ponytail.

“Like I can’t take my eyes off of you because you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on?” He asked, coming up to her and wrapping his arms around her.

“Yes…” she answered, still embarrassed and not quite meeting his eyes.

“I will not stop. I’ll never stop,” he whispered, and pecked her lips.

There was just enough time for her to pull on the long, thick socks she had had on under her boots and cast a few cleansing charms on her knickers to pull them on before the delivery guy buzzed. Severus rushed to the kitchen to let him in, and Hermione hurried after him.

“Where’s my purse?” She asked.

“Are you planning on leaving?” He was smirking, arching an eyebrow.

“No!” She smacked his arm playfully. “So I can pay the nice man who is bringing us food,” she said, smiling and wrapping her arms around his waist.

“Not necessary.”

“At least my share!”

“No.”

“Sev! You have paid for everything this evening! I can pay for some sandwiches!”

“I’m certain you can.”

“Why won’t you let me pay?”

“Because I want to take care of you in every way I possibly can, big or small.” He suckled gently on her lips as once again she blushed. She wasn’t used to it yet, but she could easily get used to being treated like this, with so much tenderness.

It was left unsaid by him that he had always wanted to take care of her, he had longed to hold her and kiss her and reassure her in more intimate and thorough ways than those he could show when she vented about her problems and told him what that fucking imbecile had done or said. He had never, not even during the dark days he had spent as a minion to that loathsome creature, wanted so badly to use an Unforgivable on someone as he had on Weasley. And now, for having failed to properly protect and care for her back then, he wanted to make up for it however way he could.

She smiled giddily. “And what if I want to take care of _you_ , silly?”

“Just… be mine,” he stated sincerely.

The doorbell rang before she could say she was, completely.

He went to the door but she followed close behind. He opened it, and she clung to him, her arms wrapped around his waist, her hands caressing his stomach. She hid behind him, since she was not properly nor fully dressed, but stuck her head out from behind him to bid the delivery man a good evening. He was smiling at the whole situation.

“That will be U$ 46.50” he said, handing Severus the bags.

Severus took them, and held them back, almost over his shoulder. Hermione needed no instruction or request, she took the bags and stalked back to the kitchen. She placed them on the island and from the swinging door, she watched Severus pay and tip the man with the money he had reached for on the sideboard next to the door.

“Thank you, have a good night,” Severus said.

“You too,” the man replied, with a smile that said ‘it appears you already have.’

Hermione clung to him again as he approached her, and nuzzled his chest. “I am,” she said, and it was muffled by his T-shirt.

“You are what?” he asked, truly not following.

“Yours,” she said, looking up at him.

He smiled, then claimed her lips.

When they parted, he took the paper bags to the square table for four, and pulled out a chair for her. She took a seat, and commenced fumbling with the wrappings in the bag. He went to a cupboard and took out plates, and brought them to the table.

“We don’t need plates,” she said.

“Just because we are eating greasy, unhealthy food, does not mean we have to be complete animals about it,” he said jokingly, placing the plates before her. She laughed and as he turned to the fridge, she placed a sandwich on each plate, and the fries around them. Her onion rings rested on a separate plate.

“Juice? Soda?” He asked as he looked in the refrigerator. “Wine?” he added, looking at her, a little dismayed at the thought of wasting perfectly good wine on greasy sandwiches.

She sniggered. “A soda will be fine, thank you. I am on holiday, and I intend on eating my share of junk food.”

“Fair enough.” He took the sodas and floated them to the table, along with glasses that came on their own from the cupboard, sitting down next to her.

They both took bites from their own sandwiches. He then fed her a bite of his. There used to be a lot of tasting each other’s food and snacks in the lab. Of course he never actually fed her. That wouldn’t have been proper at the time. She fed him a bite of her sandwich as well, and they approved of one another’s choices. She took an onion ring, and offered him another.

“Hmmm. Very good. I should have ordered some for myself,” he said.

“Yes, you should have,” she replied teasingly, insinuating she would not be sharing any more. He just snorted as he tried to chuckle with his mouth closed, since he was chewing.

“Have you always had this flat?” Hermione asked in between bites.

“No,” he answered. “I bought it a couple of years ago. Seemed like a good idea, since I constantly came here. It’s busy, the city, crowded. No one bats an eye at you. A good place to get lost, keep to yourself, think about things, and yet, not feel too alone.” Plus, he always somehow felt closer to her here, due to that offer made years ago.

She felt a little bad for him, remembering what he had gone through, how he hated being in the public eye, especially since they weren’t always particularly nice… how lonely he seemed to be. Well, she had been lonely too. But she was here now. They would never be lonely again, not if she could help it.

“Turned out it was a good idea. Now with the shop, I’ll need to check on it constantly.”

“Fancy business man,” she smiled. “Soon, you’ll need a flat in every state in America.”

He just snorted and bit into his sandwich.

After a few more minutes of quiet chewing, she brought up that thing that had been gnawing at her at the back of her mind ever since he had said it.

“Were… did you mean it when you said you would move in with me?” It was crazy fast, but she knew it in her heart it was right. She wanted this.

“Yes. Absolutely.”

“Really? You won’t get sick of seeing annoying little me every evening after work?”

“Never. Yours is an annoyance I have developed a taste for, and I happen to find charming.”

She scrunched her nose and he laughed.

“I would in fact go as far as saying I wish you to work with me, so I can see your annoying yet beautiful, intelligent and sexy self all day, every day.”  
“You don’t mean that.”

“I do. You seem unhappy at your current employment and I miss discussing things with you. You made me sharper, kept me on my toes, had wonderful insight. I was more creative with you by my side. And you seemed to enjoy it. I’m sure it would challenge your brilliance more than a desk job. But if the prospect of spending the day with me is too revolting, and you still wish to leave your job, you could manage one of the shops. You’ll hardly see me during the days.” He smiled.

“See, that is tempting, but doesn’t seem too wise,” she said shyly.

“Why?”

“What if you tire of me one day, and kick me to the curb? I’ll be left heartbroken and alone and without a job on top of it.”

“First of all, I assure you I will never tire of you. Never. You are most likely to tire of me. Second, I am not such a horrible man, at least I like to think. You are bright, and excellent to work with, responsible, and I would hire you for that, and not because you are sleeping with the boss.” He smirked. “So you would certainly still have a job, yes. Third, I will put one of the shops in your name, just to prove how serious I am about you. The one on Diagon Alley. Or one of the patents. _And_ one of the patents, the one you helped me with back then. Or half of the company for that matter. I wouldn’t have created a lot of the potions without your help and input anyway.”

She just laughed, even though he seemed dead serious. “You’re crazy.”

“Yes. About you.”

Her cheeks burned red. “I have kids. I can’t just… abandon them. They will be there every summer, every other holiday…”

“You _do_?” He said in a mock surprised tone. “Oh, I wish you had told me sooner… I don’t know if that’ll work out, then…” he continued, still obviously mocking.

She lifted her leg and playfully, gently, kicked his thigh. He had finished his sandwich, so he held her foot on his lap and started massaging it, as he had many times before.

“I will love them as my own for the simple fact they are yours.” He meant what he said. Perhaps someday she could have _his_ child, so he could enjoy all the phases, enjoy her pregnancy again, and more fully this time, enjoy the baby properly, watch them grow. But this was not the time to discuss it. Nor was it important. It wouldn’t make him want her any less if she didn’t wish to have another baby. Little did he know – did _they_ know – it might happen sooner even than he wished. He wanted her, in any way, shape or form he could get her. He would have damn well have accepted to be the dirty mistress, the other man, the dirty little secret if she would have wanted it like that back then.

“I have already met and loved little Rose, if you remember. It’s just a matter of getting reacquainted,” he smiled. “And of meeting Hugo, the Frenchman.”

Hermione smiled.

“I know full well they’ll hate me for the simple fact I am the bloke replacing their father in their eyes. Add to that the fact it’s… well, me… But I have had 900 students hate me for at least 7 years of their lives during 20 years of my life, I think I can handle only two easily enough.” He smiled. “And hopefully more kindly,” he said in a darker, sorrowful tone.

“I don’t think they would hate you.” She said, “Or think you are replacing their father. He isn’t too kind and tender with them either. They might be a bit wary precisely because of that… But I have already told Rose a bit about you.”

“You have?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yes. She’s a teenage girl, with questions about love, and boys… insecurities. And no good examples at home. I had to… I had to tell her not all men would be like that.”

He smiled. “I promise I would do my best to be a decent… figure for them, should you choose to let me.”

“I’ve seen you with Rose… you were wonderful. I’m sure they would love you in no time. But there is still the matter of… Ronald. He wouldn’t like it. At all. He can be… difficult.” She sighed.

“Let him try to be,” he said with something in his eyes reminiscent of Professor Snape, or even Death Eater Snape. “I would _love_ to… handle him. He could use a few lessons.”

“Sev…” She said warningly. “The kids still need him around… he _is_ their father.”

“Oh, they would have him around. Perhaps not every part of him. But the vital bits would be mostly untouched. Probably.”

She couldn’t help but laugh, even though he didn’t sound too playful.

“But wouldn’t that tire and drive you away? Having to deal with him?”

“Nothing could drive me away from you, Hermione. I’m serious about this. I want you, for good. I know it’s hard to believe, given my history and my… harsh ways, but you made your way into my heart long ago, and nothing feels more right in my life than being with you. I will go anywhere with you, if you want me there. Believe me. I… it’s hard enough to be open like this with _you_ , whom I trust. I’m only being this open because I have seen how life is without you in it, what my being a stubborn, closed off fool caused, and the utter despair of losing you again is causing this blabbering. I wouldn’t be saying this if I didn’t mean it.”

It was true, he wouldn’t. He had improved since the war, even back when they had gotten reacquainted, but he wasn’t too friendly or open with anyone else but her. _Take the opportunity, foolish girl. Be happy._

“But where would we live? I just moved the kids to my parent’s old house. It had been empty for so long. I just about managed to make it a home. I wouldn’t want to move them again.”

“Hermione,” he said seriously, still rubbing her foot gently. “Do you want this? Do you want _me_? Because I have told you, I will go anywhere with you. If you want me there. I just need a soft, warm space beside you to sleep on. Nothing more. If you want me there, I will be there in a heartbeat.”

She stood and sat on his lap. He made room. “I _do_ want you there. More than anything. I love you, so very much.” She caressed his cheek and kissed him.

“Then what do you say to us enjoying this lovely week,” he kissed her, “going sightseeing,” he kissed her again, “having hours and hours of amazing sex,” he nipped her ear, “and then going back home. You take the time you need to tell them about me… maybe I can meet them on New Year’s? Or before they return to Hogwarts…” he kissed her neck, “and then we’ll see from there. I will move in as soon as you want me to. They’ll be off at school, and it will give them enough time to process, and not be weird when they return and I’m there. Just a suggestion. You are the proverbial boss. Lead and I will follow. The only demand I make is that I see you four times a week, at the very least, one way or another.”

“You’d do that for me?” She smiled. “Meet them, see how it goes, wait if needed, but still be with me?”

“Yes. Anything for you,” he rubbed his nose on her neck.

“Okay. Let’s do it.” She smiled.

“I’m so glad. Now…” he started to caress her bare thighs as he still nuzzled her neck, his hands going up next to her mound. “What will you do for me?” He asked in an indecent rumble.

“You can have more onion rings,” she replied cheekily.

He chuckled as he proceeded to feeding her potato chips before they returned to the comfort of his – _their_ – bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that didn't move too fast. I just wanted to give you guys a clear idea of where it was going and not leave you hanging and wondering.
> 
> Happy New Year! May all your wishes come true in 2020, and may we all have romance like this. *I truly wish it to you all, but I'm looking at someone right now and you know who you are. Hahaha*


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